


Knot of One

by Silbrith



Series: Six-Crossed Knot [2]
Category: All Souls Trilogy - Deborah Harkness
Genre: Gen, Historical, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 10:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silbrith/pseuds/Silbrith
Summary: Matthew knows that Diana will have to make a difficult adjustment to Elizabethan England, but he's unprepared for the challenges he'll face. Story #2 in Six-Crossed Knot.





	Knot of One

_Notes: Set in Elizabethan London, this story takes place a week after Diana befriends a young pickpocket named Jack. It's the second story in Six-Crossed Knot, a series based on Deborah Harkness's works. See the notes at the end of the story for more information._

 

* * *

_"With knot of one, the spell's begun."  
—Deborah Harkness_

**London. February 1591.**

Matthew was well aware that when he and Diana timewalked to Elizabethan England she would face daunting obstacles. He remembered the sixteenth century vividly—its customs, its beliefs, its smells. Diana's American-accented English would barely be understood. She wouldn't be able to write until she mastered the art of using a quill. Simply slipping on the assorted pads and layers of clothing required for a woman of her status would be a rude awakening for someone accustomed to wearing yoga pants and loose tunics. He and Diana had retained their first names, but in England Matthew's surname was Roydon. It would take practice before she'd even be able to pronounce it correctly.

But now, months later, Diana had adapted and he was the one who was a fish out of water.

"Jack, bring that back!" Skirts flying, Diana charged through the hallway toward the stairs, in hot pursuit of a pint-sized speeding dynamo. His fleetness of foot made Matthew suspect that somewhere buried deep in the ancestry of that urchin lurked the heart of a vampire.

It had been a week since Matthew had caught the small thief trying to pick Diana's purse near St. Paul's Churchyard. Jack couldn't be more than eight years old. At the sight of those pleading golden-brown eyes under a tousled mop of grimy blond hair, Diana's heart had melted. Matthew hadn't argued that the boy was emaciated to the point of starvation. But so were thousands of other children in London. It was sad he had no parents, but that was hardly sufficient cause for them to take him into their home.

Jack was a pickpocket and a thief, and an unusually gifted one. They'd already had ample proof of his talent in the past several days. Checking his pockets at bedtime had become a daily ritual for Matthew's faithful servant Pierre. The vampire claimed he didn't mind. He actually appeared to enjoy the chore. Their other servant Françoise was even worse, doting on the pup, slipping him extra buns and tarts between meals.

But wasn't their household in London complicated enough with three vampires and two witches? They'd already befriended a young witch, fourteen-year-old Annie, who was to help Diana learn how to use her powers. That experiment had been a success. Annie had grown attached to Diana and helped with household duties. She was of even disposition, well behaved, and modest in habits. In other words, _not_ Jack.

What did the pup have to offer except trouble?

Yes, their quarters in the Hart and Crown were ample enough for the addition of one small boy, but they didn't need another servant. Especially not an illiterate ragamuffin whose only skills were illegal.

No matter how Diana defended him, he was a thief and a juvenile delinquent whose future in all likelihood would be short and end badly. Matthew had seen it happen all too often. No doubt Jack had a history of being abused. When he was cleaned up, the bruises were all too evident. Some brute in Billingsgate had probably noticed Jack's nimbleness and taken the pup on.  In exchange for Jack's daily haul, he'd supplied just enough food to keep him alive while beating him every evening to remind him to produce more the next day.

The brutality in the boy's life was sickening, but it was not Matthew and Diana's place to correct the social justice system.

Matthew had been reading a dispatch in front of the fire, but with Jack on a tear, the only place that was safe was his inner sanctum. His private office across the hallway from the parlor was kept locked— never more diligently than now.

Matthew stood up and turned around, only to be blindsided by a mini-whirlwind. Jack reeled back from the head-on contact with his legs. Matthew grabbed him by the collar to keep him from falling.

"What did I tell you about running in the house?" he snarled, caught off guard.

Jack blanched, looking terrified. His eyes conveyed the same fear as when Matthew held him at knifepoint during their initial encounter.

"Hah! I've got you now!" Diana exclaimed with a laugh, racing into the room. Her face was flushed from the chase, and her strawberry-blonde hair glinted in the sun coming through the mullioned windows. But when she caught sight of Matthew and Jack, now standing petrified in place, the look of merriment turned to anxiety.

Matthew scowled to conceal his discomfort. This was Jack's fault. Hurriedly he released the child.

"I'm sorry, my lord," Jack whispered.

Pierre stuck his head in, no doubt to see what the commotion was about. His sharp eyes sized up the tableau at a glance. "Jack, I need your help. Françoise has requested almond tarts for supper tonight." He gave him an exaggerated wink. "We may need to sample a currant bun while we're out."

Instantaneously Jack's expression transformed from fear to joy. "May I, Mistress Roydon?"

"Of course," Diana said. "Try not to eat all the tarts before you get back **."**

Matthew waited till their steps faded before putting in his two cents. "Rewarding a pup for bad behavior is not standard child-rearing practice."

She glared at him. "Nor is being such a grouch. Is it so difficult to show a tiny bit of leniency?"

"We didn't argue nearly as much before you adopted Jack as your lost cause of the month."

"And you weren't nearly as inflexible in the twenty-first century," she retorted, her exasperation even more evident. 

He shoved a hand through his hair. It was hard to defend himself when he knew she was right. Their return to the sixteenth century made it perilously easy to fall into old modes of thinking. In Elizabethan England, his word was law. As one of the queen's trusted spies, he commanded respect and deference. Independent, assertive women like Diana were few. But from the moment he'd met Diana, he'd admired her spirit and self-confidence.  Even more so now.

He took his place on the oak settle by the hearth and tempered his voice. "Come sit beside me . . . _please_."

Her shoulders relaxed and her mouth softened into a smile. She sat down close enough to him that he could feel the warmth of her body. He placed an arm around her, savoring the scent of honey and chamomile she exuded. With a light hand he brushed back a wandering tendril of her hair.

"If you'd give Jack a chance, you'd like him," she said gently.

"That's not the issue. He's unschooled."

"He can learn. We both have doctorates. Surely we can teach him to read."

"Perhaps you can. He's terrified of me."

"Only because he views you as a threat. I can see into his heart. Despite the fear, he idolizes you."

"Nonsense. He senses I'm a _wearh_. He'll always be afraid." Using the Tudor expression for vampire reduced the sting.

"That's not true," she countered. "He and Pierre have already become pals. Jack realizes I'm a witch but that doesn't scare him. For children, the distinction between creatures and humans is not well-defined. Pets, humans, creatures—we're all lumped together. What's the real reason you didn't want us to take in Jack?"

"You haven't experienced life as I have, _ma lionne_. You haven't had to say farewell to the countless friends or . . ." He hesitated then added in a lower voice, "people you loved. With every parting you experience a pain which never completely disappears. Eventually we'll return to our century. I'd like to spare you the sorrow you'll experience if you let yourself grow close to the child. And it won't be just you. Think about how it will be for Jack. After living with us, won't he feel abandoned?"

She bowed her head for a moment. "I realize the path won't be easy, but the time he spends with us will give him a fresh perspective. Is giving Jack a second chance so wrong?"

He'd already had ample examples of Diana's stubbornness when she believed she was right. He might as well admit the inevitable. He grasped her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing it. "Very well, Mistress Roydon. I'll do my best with the pup. Perhaps he and I both can mend our ways."

#

Diana returned her husband's kiss with one on the lips. Despite his reassurance, she was skeptical of a quick and easy fix. She suspected Matthew was only being partially truthful with her and likely himself as well. He might not recognize the underlying issue.

During their stay in France, Diana had spoken at length with his father Philippe about the thousand years of history Matthew had lived since his rebirth. He became a vampire in 537 after having suffered the deaths of his wife and his child Lucas. The boy had only been five years old. The double loss of his wife and son continued to haunt Matthew. To Diana's knowledge, he'd avoided being around youngsters ever since. Was he subconsciously afraid of being hurt again?

Matthew was an excellent teacher. His colleagues at Oxford praised him for his kindness and patience. It was time he demonstrated that to Jack. She was pregnant with their first child. If Matthew couldn't reach out to Jack, what would he be like with their own child?

But, as the days passed, Diana could see little evidence of progress.

Matthew buried himself in his work more than ever. His meetings with William Cecil, the queen's chief advisor to the queen, became more frequent. Meanwhile Diana and Jack grew closer. Although getting him to sit still for lessons was a near impossibility, they roamed the streets of London together and her knowledge of neighborhoods and customs increased almost as fast as the elemental magic she was learning from her teachers. Jack no longer looked like he was at death's door even though he was too active to gain much weight.

Pocket inspection continued to be a daily necessity. Jack had the ability to make his coltish arms and legs appear boneless. Now that he was no longer being threatened, thievery had turned into a game. She consoled herself that she'd managed to drill into him that he could only take what he found lying on the streets. Buttons, the occasional coin, bits of ribbon or pottery were all treasures in his eyes.

Matthew didn't understand how she could bond with the boy so quickly. It surprised her as well. She suspected the cause was her witch's third eye. It had also guided her toward Matthew. From the time of that first encounter in the Bodleian Library at Oxford, she'd felt herself drawn to him. At first, the thought made her uneasy. Once she embraced it, she realized she was falling in love with him. With Jack she felt another link—threads which united their fates in ways she didn't yet understand. She wished she could explain it to Matthew, but all she could say was that it felt right.

As malnourished as Jack was, he was starving even more for affection. He blossomed with the slightest word of kindness. When Pierre took him under his wing, Jack responded with the exuberant affection of an abused puppy.

Jack appeared to be fascinated and terrified of her husband in equal measure. Whenever Matthew entered the room, the boy became shy and diffident. At the slightest stern word, he blanched. Jack was doing his best to stay on her husband's good side, but it appeared his best wouldn't suffice. Diana had caught him a couple of times looking longingly toward Matthew's private office, but he appeared to understand that the office—like Matthew—was off limits to him. 

#

On an overcast day in early February, Matthew returned earlier than expected from court. Their quarters were quiet. When he called out, he only got a response from Françoise, who was mending one of Diana's skirts in her room. She explained that Diana had taken Annie with her and was at a training session with the witch Goody Alsop. Pierre was out running errands.

"I haven't seen Jack, but he must be with Pierre. If he were around, we'd hear him!" she added with a laugh. "Best you enjoy the quiet while you can, _milord_."

Sound advice. Matthew decided to retreat to his inner sanctum before the others returned. He retrieved the key from the cupboard in the parlor. Everyone knew to keep his office securely locked.

When he touched the handle of the door, he smelled trouble before he inserted the key. The faint whiff of Jack's scent wafted through the keyhole.

Matthew paused to tamp down his anger. He'd predicted this moment was inevitable. Jack sneaked in everywhere else. Matthew had hoped he'd thwarted any attempts by keeping the key in a high drawer inaccessible to a child, but plainly he'd been outmaneuvered.

When he flung the door open, he saw Jack sprawled on the wood plank floor, ink pot and quill beside him. He'd taken a sheet of scratch paper from Matthew's desk and was drawing a design of some sort.

Jack knew he was in for it. His face bleached white, he jumped up and shrank into the corner of the room. Evidently he was terrified of the beating he so richly deserved.

But one which also would do no good.

Diana had already laid down the ground rules that with their children corporal punishment wouldn't be allowed. And for a reprobate like Jack, it would be ineffective. It was time for a different tack.

"Come here, pup," Matthew ordered quietly as he took a seat on the floor next to the paper. Jack hesitated before slowly advancing into the room. He sat cross-legged opposite Matthew, contorting his limbs into a compressed ball. Obviously still fearful, he looked up at Matthew and gave him a lopsided wistful smile.

Someone else had used that same expression on him. Lucas. Jack was small for his age. Not that much bigger than Lucas had been. Neither child had any sense of impulse control. Lucas's excuse was that Matthew spoiled him. Jack had been abused to the point he didn't know right from wrong.

"That was a neat trick sneaking in here," Matthew commented, keeping his voice neutral and non-threatening. "How did you accomplish it?"

Jack's eyes grew wide as saucers at the unexpected tone. In an instant, his fear dissolved into mischievousness. "Mistress Roydon may have set the key down for a few minutes this morning before she left, my lord."

Matthew nodded as if it made perfect sense. "Why do you need to be in my office?"

"Valentine's Day is coming. I wanted to make Mistress Roydon a valentine."

 _Pup, you just escaped being placed in solitary lockup._ "Excellent idea. What do you have in mind?"

He looked sheepish. "I thought about snatching something for her, but I didn't think she'd approve."

"You're right," he agreed mildly. "What did you decide on instead?"

"I'm drawing her a picture." He handed him the sheet of paper and looked at him anxiously.

Matthew was stunned when he saw it. The boy was illiterate. He couldn't write. Where had he learned to draw? His picture displayed a wildflower being held in the beak of a bird. "This is honeysuckle. Why did you pick that flower?"

"Mistress Roydon smells of honeysuckle," he said shyly.

"Yes, she does. Where did you learn to draw?'

He shoved his long blond hair off his forehead, leaving ink streaks on his forehead. "I used to make pictures on stones for the other kids with charcoal. Master Stidolph found them. Made me draw for him."

"I bet he did." Matthew looked at him thoughtfully. Stidolph was the ringleader of a group of young urchins who were forced to work for him like slaves. Pierre had pried the information out of Jack shortly after he arrived.

"You know it's traditional to write a poem when you give a woman flowers."

He flushed. "I can't write."

The big day is still a week off. You want to learn? Words are magical. You'll be adding magic to that picture."

He swallowed. "You're not going to punish me?"

"Not this time, and I'll make a deal with you. You can use my private office and I'll even supply you with paper but only under my or Mistress Roydon's supervision and it can only be to learn how to read and write. Since the Valentine's Day surprise is a secret, for now it will be just you and me." Matthew stood up and went over to his oak table. "Come stand beside me."

"Yes, my lord," Jack rose and dusted off his breeches.  

"You call Diana _Mistress Roydon_ ," Matthew pointed out mildly. " _Master Roydon_ will suffice for me." Pulling out a sheet of cheap rag paper from a supply of draft paper, he carefully wrote _honeysuckle_ and _Mistress Roydon_ at the top while Jack watched.

Afterward, he dusted it with sand and let it sit for a few minutes. "This is your first assignment. When you can write these words correctly, you can have more paper.  Do you know what the letters are?"

When Jack shook his head, Matthew spelled them out and made Jack repeat them. _This was going to take a while_ , he thought. Still he'd drilled biochemistry principles into the heads of assistants at Oxford. How much harder could one small boy be?

"The _S_ looks like a snake," Jack said.

"And sounds like it too." Matthew looked around his office. The desk was large enough to give Jack some space, but before he could shove his papers aside, Jack had already returned to the inkwell and quill on the floor.

After some initial reluctance at the inevitable ink splotches which would be left on the oak planks, Matthew forced himself to leave Jack at it while he read the latest dispatches from Scotland. Gradually he relaxed as Jack worked in silence, the scratches of his quill making the only sound. He'd finally discovered a way to keep Jack quiet.

When the sun descended low in the sky, Matthew strode over to his young apprentice. He remembered well Diana's blots when she attempted to use a quill for the first time. Jack was already familiar with that skill, but he'd be forced to trace the letters. Matthew lectured himself to not judge him too harshly.

"How did you do?"

Shyly, Jack handed him the sheet, and Matthew chuckled with delight. The _O_ had become an owl, the _R_ a raven, _M_ was a mountain. The two _S's_ in _Mistress_ had become a pair of entwined snakes. The pup was a natural-born limner. "This is excellent work," he praised.  Given Jack's age and lack of training, the work was remarkable.

Jack turned scarlet at the praise. Matthew doubted Stidolph had ever spoken a kind word to him. "You've worked hard. Would you like to go play now?"

"Can I stay with you and write more?" he asked pleadingly.

"Sure," Matthew agreed, inwardly pleased. "You'll write better if you sit at a table." He brought over a carved oak chair and set it at the opposite end of the desk, placing a chest on the seat of the chair for Jack to sit on. "Do you feel ready for another word?"

He nodded eagerly. "Your name, Master Roydon."

"There's one more you need—your own name."

By the time Jack came back with a new sheet of illustrations, he'd added a bear climbing a tree and a cat swimming in water. Getting him to read normal words could be a challenge, but before long he'd be able to recognize all the letters of the alphabet.

"What will you give Mistress Roydon for Valentine's Day?" Jack asked.

Matthew stopped short. He hadn't even considered it yet. "Perhaps we should prepare a joint present. You draw a frame of honeysuckle vines and I'll write a sonnet to go inside."

The door creaked open, and the target of their conspiracy entered the room. Diana scanned them nervously while Jack jumped back as if he'd been caught red-handed.  Matthew suspected his expression wasn't much different.

Her eyes quickly took in Jack's chair and the paper in front of it. Placing her hands on her hips, she smiled. "What have you two been up to?"

"Master Roydon has been teaching me the letters of the alphabet!" Jack said proudly, dashing off to show her his latest effort.

As she praised him, she looked over his head at Matthew and nodded gratefully.

Pierre had followed her into the room, and Jack charged over to show him his handiwork. "I noticed a small table and stool in the attic which would be a better height for Jack," Pierre said, wrapping his arms around the pup. "Would you like me to set them up in your office?"

Diana raised a brow at Matthew, challenging him to allow permanent space for the small pickpocket-illustrator.

"I've already told Jack he can practice his writing assignments here," Matthew said smoothly. "Place it by the window where he'll have good light."

This would be Matthew and Diana's first Valentine's Day, and they'd celebrate in an England 500 years before they'd met. It was a time of second chances and fresh starts for all three of them.

 

* * *

_Notes: In the second novel of All Souls Trilogy, Shadow of Night, Deborah Harkness describes the initial meeting between Jack, Matthew, and Diana, but she lets us imagine how Matthew overcame his initial disapproval of the boy. This is one possible scenario. Jack continues to play a role throughout the second and third novels, but many of the details are left untold. I plan to fill in some of those blanks in a series of one-shots. My next story, Night's Witness, will be posted on September 21, 2018. The title of the series, Six-Crossed Knot, refers to a custom spell Diana weaves for Jack._

_Thanks for reading and hugs to all of you who comment or leave kudos! Special thanks to Penna Nomen for outstanding beta help._

_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: _ [ _www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com_ ](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com) _. See the Six-Crossed Knot page for background information on the series and an introduction to the world of All Souls Trilogy._  
  
_Story visuals are on the Six-Crossed Knot board of my Pinterest website: Silbrith's Stories:_ [ _https://www.pinterest.com/silbrith_ ](https://www.pinterest.com/silbrith/)

_Disclaimers: This story is for fun. The world of All Souls Trilogy and its characters are not mine. I'm grateful to Deborah Harkness for allowing fanfic writers to play in her captivating sandbox._


End file.
